Forget
by orianna-2000
Summary: In the slums of New Earth, the Doctor is given the chance to forget Rose.


_This is a non-profit work of fan-fiction based upon the television series _Doctor Who_. All related characters, places, and events, belong to the BBC, and Russell T. Davies, used without permission. This story, with all original content, belongs to the author, © 2007. _

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_**Forget**_  
by Orianna2000 

_Missing scene for _Gridlock._ Mild spoilers for _School Reunion, Doomsday_, and _Gridlock_.  
Thanks to my beta reader _LittleZink!

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"_The drug that heals our sorrows forgetfulness." _

—Appianus

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"A bit of 'Forget' for you, then, love?"

That's what she'd asked, the woman in the alley on New Earth. She had no one to sell drugs to now, of course, with the lower levels of the city abandoned for the promise of rich life in the towers of glass above. But at the time, she'd had an entire booth of emotions to sell: Happiness. Anger. Amusement. Confidence. Composure. Revenge. Kindness. Honesty. Pleasure. Lust. Love. And Forget.

The Doctor had turned to her with astonished dismay. "Beg pardon? You're not trying to sell me some of your drugs, are you? Seriously?"

"Why not? You look like you can afford to forget whatever it is that's haunting you. Better to forget and smile than remember and cry, don't you think? What is it, then, a wife? Took off with someone richer? That's always how it ends, isn't it?" She'd clucked her tongue and held out her hand. A transparent patch rested in her palm, small and innocent-looking.

_Forget._

The Doctor had stared at the tiny slip of plastic, his expression dark. Finally, he'd said, "How much?"

"This little one? Twenty credits, love."

He'd given her the credit chip, watched her check it's authenticity and stash it away with the fast movements of one desperate for every cent. And then he'd found himself asking, "Got anything stronger?"

"Of course, love. I can make you forget you were ever born, but it'll cost you."

"I'm over nine-hundred of your years old. Anything strong enough to wipe my entire life would probably fry my synaptic functions in the process."

"As you say, sir." She'd looked at him uneasily, then forced a smile. "How much were you wanting to forget, then? That little one you bought will take away a single person from your memories, going back a year, maybe two. I've got stronger—ones that'll take away _everything_ for the past year, or half-decade."

"Suppose there was a war that spanned centuries and ended badly. Suppose I'm the last of my kind and I don't want to remember why."

She'd looked at him, frightened. He hadn't meant to scare her, but he hadn't meant for a lot of things to happen. Her voice had quavered just a little when she spoke. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't think I can help you. Maybe one of the others..."

And she'd slammed the booth's shutters closed.

Now he sat in the TARDIS, alone. The lights were dim—blue and gold cast shadows around the console room. He felt old. So very old and tired. He flipped the patch back and forth between his fingers, considering. _Forget_, it promised in bold white letters. And how he wanted to forget...

The Time War. The Daleks. The loss of Gallifrey and his entire race. All the species that he'd hurt or killed in trying to help or defend others. All the companions he'd left behind or seen die.

Rose.

He wanted the gaping wound in his hearts to heal. He wanted the pain to end. He always moved on, kept busy so his mind wouldn't have time to dwell on the loss, but it still hurt. Every day he had to force himself to keep going, because if he stopped... if he let himself remember... the pain would overwhelm him.

He could slap this patch onto his neck. The drug would enter his bloodstream, travel along his arteries, up to his brain. It would seek out his amygdala and smother his emotional link to Rose. He would forget that he loved her. Then, it would move on to his medial temporal lobe and deaden the connections between neurons. He would forget that she had ever existed.

He brought the patch up to his neck. His fingers twitched, holding the patch just above the skin. It would end the pain. He could move on with his life.

But what about his promise?

He'd sworn he wouldn't leave Rose behind; he wouldn't keep her name a secret after she'd gone; he wouldn't bury her memory along with the dozens of other companions he'd lost; he wouldn't forget her. And here he was, about to do just that.

His hand closed around the thin patch, but he stopped short of crumpling it. As wretched as he felt, he couldn't imagine living without her memory. He loved Rose with both of his hearts, even now. She had saved him, given him reason to live when the Time War had stripped him of reason and strength. Her memory hurt, but it also gave him strength. It stung and bled, but perhaps it would heal with time. Perhaps someday he would be able to think of her without his breath being torn away; without reliving the bitter moment when she'd been ripped out of his life forever.

He carefully wrapped the patch in a handkerchief and stuck it deep inside his breast pocket. It would be there if he ever needed it. For now, he welcomed the ache that accompanied the image of Rose smiling, her eyes sparkling with joy and her love for him.

Perhaps someday the grief in his heart would become too much to bear, and then he would welcome the bliss of Forget.

But not today.


End file.
